me.
I gripped the brass key so tightly that my fingers began to ache.
My father had been buried less than an hour ago.
Yet with every passing minute, that reality felt less believable.
The coffin had been empty.
The FBI had been waiting for me.
And someone was desperately trying to get me back home.
The agent stepped closer.
“Your father wasn’t the man you thought he was.”
My heartbeat quickened.
“What does that mean?”
She hesitated.
Then glanced toward the storage unit.“It means he spent more than
